


Liebestraum

by SnowyWolff



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Human, Classical Music, Classicism, Dystopia, Falling In Love, Far Future, Hope For A Brighter Future, Multi, Operas, Rediscovery Of Music, Stirring Rebellion (In The Background)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22067722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyWolff/pseuds/SnowyWolff
Summary: In a distant future where androids have taken over the arts, literature and music, it is illegal for humans to play instruments and, while human singers are still present in the circuit, they are slowly being pushed out of their jobs as well.Three humans find themselves trying to fight the never ending intrusion of the androids in their love for music: Erzsébet Héderváry, a middle class opera singer believed to be in her final months of perfection; Gilbert Beilschmidt, a lower class citizen with a secret and more knowledge of old world concepts than anyone should have; and Roderich Edelstein, an upper class heir who finds something he hadn’t thought he had been looking for in the both of them.
Relationships: Austria/Hungary/Prussia (Hetalia)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	Liebestraum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lotus_Dumplings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotus_Dumplings/gifts).



> My secret santa-tho-rlly-not-a-santa-but-more-of-a-new-year-bc-we-planned-this-later for Lotus!!! Happy holidays and all that!! Uh, this got incredibly out of hand bc once my brain makes a setting like this I cant not as you probably saw so like uh enjoy??
> 
> I also made a [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/483n0jCiChPmH9mST3UEE5?si=r8lyBg_3RE2vrzdcLwKSVg) (the first time I’ve ever done such a thing so you can say I was procrastinating this fic a lot too) for the classical music mentioned in here. Most of it is pretty basic bc I figured the stuff that’s preserved is the well-known stuff. I also don’t know Shit about classical music and I keep saying I do want to get into it but then never do, so this playlist is also me being like Oh!! I Like!!!!

Erzsébet peeked around the curtain at the side of the stage, nervously chewing her lip.

A lot of chairs were still empty, too many not to feel uncomfortable. Though there were still twenty minutes left until the start of her performance. People could be late. Rich people always liked to be late. Fashionable. Anxiety-inducing.

She scanned the first row, relieved to find Gilbert, the sore thumb in the crowd of expensive suits and dresses, reclining petulantly, the seats next to him purposefully empty. He wasn’t sulking because she had asked him to be there, for her, but because he wanted to be recognized as not-belonging, as someone who shouldn’t be there, but couldn’t be removed. A reminder that he, and his social class, did exist.

His brown eyes slid to hers and she gave a little wave, which he returned with a grin. He sat up a little straighter, glanced behind him as if to check whether the people sitting there were paying attention (they weren’t), then pointed toward them and mouthing ‘kick out’, pointing at himself and then rolling his eyes.

So, they had tried to get him kicked out. Thankfully, the valets at this venue knew Gilbert and knew he was there on Erzsébet’s special request and so they had stopped trying to drag him from the building.

Erzsébet gave him a sympathetic look, followed by her pointing at the people and mouthing ‘kick out?’ herself. Yet, Gilbert shook his head, and she was secretly thankful; she needed every viewer and Gilbert knew this, but it certainly wouldn’t have stopped her if Gilbert had really been bothered.

She was about to retreat behind the curtain when a man walked along the first row, searching for his seat. He was rather lanky, maybe a little shorter than Gilbert, fitted in an expensive matted purple suit, with long, out-of-fashion coattails and an in-fashion cravat. His brown hair was messy and much too long, even as it was brushed back, yet the air around him was distinctly rich.

He stopped by Gilbert and appeared to ask something.

Gilbert frowned, but it wasn’t antagonizing, just confused. Then the man sat down in the empty seat on his left, turning to Gilbert to shake his hand, which Gilbert eyed warily, as if he was unsure whether he was being made fun of, but after a firm shake and an exchange of names, the man turned to the program booklet, pushing up his glasses as he did.

Erzsébet met Gilbert’s confounded stare with a shrug. It was rare for anyone of the upper class to so much acknowledge Gilbert’s existence, even rarer to proceed friendly and respectful. Gilbert’s clothes hardly passed as middle class; there was no way the man hadn’t noticed.

She watched Gilbert fidget awkwardly for a moment longer before finally retreating to the back to let her dresser do some final touch ups on her outfit and hair.

Before she stepped on stage, she shook hands with her counterpart, an android named Harvey Wray, who smiled and told her how excited he was to sing with one of the last human singers left. Her own smile faltered, but she ducked her head and thanked him, hoping to not disappoint him with her human imperfections.

He didn’t reply, but she could feel it. The agreement.

Humans had served their turn in the arts, and hers was almost over.

They stepped onto stage, the curtain raised, and Erzsébet would sing, as she always would, and hoped that her voice would not yet betray her, as it certainly would, someday.

***

Roderich Edelstein, that was the name of the strange man sat next to Gilbert. Strange because no upper class rich boy had ever approached Gilbert normally when he was sat first rank to _the_ Erzsébet Héderváry. Normally, they would sneer at him, or call security, or tell him to move.

But this Roderich Edelstein had asked him whether the seat was taken, the one next to Gilbert and not the one he was sat on (because some ladies liked to use that tactic), and, after Gilbert had said no, had actually sat down, turned to Gilbert to shake his hand, introduced himself as Roderich Edelstein, nodded politely as Gilbert gave his own name, and then turned to his little program booklet, squinting at the lettering despite his glasses.

Gilbert was left confused, wondering if he was the butt of a joke.

But Erzsébet began singing, and nothing strange happened during the first part of her performance (and she really sang a wonderful mezzo-soprano, but with a range so wide it was rare in humans and soon to be replaced by the ever-present androids), so Gilbert finally dared to relax a little, though he put his guard back up as the first break rolled around.

Erzsébet took a bow, smiling as the audience applauded, though it was a more lacklustre reception than her counterpart had received, but her eyes met Gilbert’s and her smile turned a little brighter as he disregarded formal etiquette to give a quiet little whoop. Gilbert noted that Roderich Edelstein clapped more enthusiastically for Erzsébet than for the android, then froze as Roderich turned to him curiously.

Here it comes, he thought. The condescension, the questions of how and why, the sneering.

Except, Roderich said, “Her voice is even better than I had imagined.”

Gilbert opened his mouth, had to throw his defence and anger in the mental trash, and thus said very eloquently: “Yeah.”

Roderich hummed, glancing back toward the stage. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “You can really hear her emotions. Her soul.” He met Gilbert’s eyes and they were so melancholic, as if he knew exactly that Erzsébet’s final performance would be rolling up soon. “Really beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Gilbert repeated, though he thought she was always beautiful and when she sang, she was downright radiant.

Roderich tapped the booklet against his knee, absent and thoughtful. There was a strange rhythm to it. Roderich caught onto Gilbert’s attention, stopping immediately while his violet eyes searched Gilbert’s.

Gilbert felt the strange urge to tell him it was all right, that Gilbert understood.

Instead, a man cleared his throat, catching their attention rather rudely before nodding toward Roderich. “There is free seat next to me,” he offered.

Gilbert scoffed, leaning on the armrest away from Roderich, scowling at a gaggle of ladies who clearly had been gossipping about him as they stopped talking immediately upon noticing him and tripped their way toward their seats.

Roderich didn’t move. “So?”

That was a strange turn of events, as if Gilbert’s entire interaction with Roderich hadn’t been strange already, so Gilbert glanced back without turning his head, unable to see Roderich, but he could see the other man’s clear discomfort.

“I mean—” The man’s eyes darted toward Gilbert. “Would you not like some proper company?”

“Proper,” Roderich echoed, without inflection. “I think I’m exactly in the company I wish to be in.”

Gilbert didn’t move as the other man hesitated, then walked away, whispers rising around them. Softly, he said, “You should’ve taken his offer.”

“I don’t think I should have,” Roderich said coolly.

Turning back to Roderich, Gilbert found a pair of calm, inscrutable eyes. They stared at each other for a long while before Gilbert asked, “Why?”

Roderich’s fingers curled around the armrest. “Because I don’t believe the arts belong to anyone. But anyone can belong to the arts.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. It was a silly thing to say in their society. The arts belonged to the rich, and Gilbert belonged to the poor.

Even though Gilbert owned some arts too, but no one was to know about that.

***

Roderich felt oddly drawn to the man beside him. There had been Roderich’s curiosity, sparked by a young man with pale hair and striking eyes, who wore a suit that did not belong in an opera house, but appeared so at ease as he reclined in his seat in the middle of the first row, as if he was exactly where he was meant to be. He had heard people trying to have him removed, but the staff’s reluctant response about the man being a special guest specifically requested by Erzsébet Héderváry had Roderich investigating.

What he had found was a young man with pale hair and striking eyes, who wore a suit he probably couldn’t afford and appeared wary and hostile to anyone coming within five feet of him. He was also looking at someone hidden in the shadows of the curtains, and grinned something large, and was really quite dashing.

The seats on either side of him had been empty, people avoiding him as if he smelled or carried a dangerous disease.

Roderich had approached and politely enquired whether one was taken. The man had been confused, muttered that neither was taken, and had stared at Roderich’s hand as if it was going to personally harm him.

His voice was grating, most likely a result from the poor air in which the lower class lived, but deep and mature, introducing himself as Gilbert Beilschmidt. Roderich felt he knew that name, but pushed that thought somewhere back, smiled, and turned to the program.

He had heard many stories about Erzsébet Héderváry, from unexpected beauty to the final remnants of humanity still shining in the arts, but nothing had prepared him for her voice, a deeper mezzo-soprano, powerful and emotional and rattling Roderich’s heart and soul.

Gilbert did not clap for the Harvey Wray, who Roderich had heard plenty of as he was one of his mother’s favourites (though she could not attend that night due to illness, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel upset about it as he otherwise never would’ve met this interesting man), but he did for Erzsébet, loud and obvious, and he grinned when Erzsébet smiled at him, for Roderich was certain it was only for him that smile was meant.

Roderich wondered just what his contemporaries had tried with this man, the way he froze when he noticed Roderich looking at him.

So, Roderich attempted civil conversation, briefly wondered whether Gilbert was socially impaired, then realized that simply no one normally held a conversation with him, considering the interruption they had suffered by one of his father’s insufferable cronies.

The conversation they had had after, if it had been a conversation at all, had solidified Roderich’s assumption.

People did not believe someone like Gilbert could appreciate good music and no amount of Roderich’s empty words would fix that view, either in Gilbert or in the upper class. Roderich realized that and hadn’t really known why he had told Gilbert anyway.

Something about Gilbert resonated with him, something he couldn’t name but had found in Gilbert’s eyes, in his posture, in his attention to the one human voice in the music.

The remainder of the opera Roderich kept his mouth shut. He felt he had already overstepped his ground with Gilbert and watched as, after the whole thing was over, Gilbert slipped backstage as if he did it every other night.

Roderich went home feeling conflicted.

His mother asked him how it had been and he told her truthfully: “Miss Héderváry had the most beautiful voice, Mother.”

“I’m sure she was carried well by Mister Wray,” she replied and smiled.

Roderich didn’t bother to tell her that it was the other way around because his mother wouldn’t care. She believed it silly for humans like Erzsébet to even attempt to stand on equal ground with the androids. So Roderich smiled and excused himself to his room.

His fingers itched as he dressed himself for bed, wanting the ivory feel of the piano keys under them, but he couldn’t afford to sneak off to where he had hidden his treasure. Instead he appeased his restlessness with humming the musical background of Erzsébet Héderváry’s voice. He wondered what she would sound like singing melodies made for humans and not for androids.

Surely, it would be unchallenged.

***

Gilbert had told her about Roderich Edelstein, the strange noble who had consciously elected to sit next to Gilbert and hadn’t moved even when offered a different seat.

She had let Gilbert ramble about the man’s strange words and weird attitude like he had done multiple times before, which usually devolved into the overall faults of the upper class. Gilbert’s opinions edged dangerously on the revolutionary and Erzsébet was unsure where he even got half the vocabulary he used from. Whenever she asked, he would evade the topic.

Irregardless, Gilbert’s opinions were to be entertained and not followed. She doubted he had any intention of joining the warring factions urging for rebellion and revolution. Gilbert wasn’t someone who followed others. He had his own hopes and dreams, however secretive they may be.

“Erzsi,” he began as they lied on her bed. She turned her head to look at him, but his eyes were fixed on the ceiling. “Do you ever wonder…” He trailed off, biting his lip.

“All the time.” She rolled onto her side, smiling teasingly as he glanced at her. “But what should I be wondering about specifically?”

Gilbert played with one of the buttons on his old shirt. “Well, do you ever wonder about music?”

Erzsébet laughed. It was a silly thing to ask. “Of course I do. It’s my life.”

Gilbert hummed noncommittally. She could feel him hesitate, but then he met her eyes and she feared the knowledge they held. “About human music?”

She sat up abruptly. “Gilbert,” she hissed.

He followed slowly and took her hand firmly. His were cold and calloused, rough from working odd jobs in the lower class.

He continued, “Don’t you ever wonder, Erzsi? What came before _them_?”

“Imperfection,” she whispered.

“You’re not,” he said and held her chin when she tried to evade his eyes. “We weren’t either.”

“Gilbert,” Erzsébet said imploringly. “You can’t.”

His fingers slipped down her neck. He brushed her hair back, lingering only a moment before kissing her cheek.

“I know,” he said and stood, walking slowly to her window. He smiled. “But imagine, Erzsi. Human singers, human pianists, human orchestras; won’t they sound wonderful?”

She watched him climb through her window, her words stuck in her throat. What could she reply to that? The sheer idea was ludicrous! Humans didn’t play—! And even if they did, they couldn’t possibly produce what androids could. They were flawless, that was why they had replaced humans in the first place.

No. It was just another one of Gilbert’s strange tangents that became stranger with every passing day.

Erzsébet dropped back against the sheets with a shaky breath and closed her eyes.

***

He did believe Erzsébet would come to understand. Hopefully before the androids really did replace her and her voice would be forgotten as quickly as Christa Ludwig and Luciano Pavarotti. It was a day Gilbert did not look forward to. He knew it would destroy her and he had no idea how to prepare against it.

The wind ran colder in the lower class part of the city, the streets unheated and unfriendly for people to linger on too long. The bourgeoisie claimed it was to improve productivity, but all it really did was make people sick, injured or otherwise incapable of fulfilling those job opportunities they equally claimed to be available (they weren’t).

Gilbert should count himself lucky. He still found jobs despite losing them all the time. He was still young and capable of physical labour, something the androids, for some reason, couldn’t do because humans were supposedly less frail than them.

A lot of rhetoric used to keep the lower class content were really excuses invented by the rich so they didn’t have to own up to the faults in the system, in their wealth. But the malcontent was stirring in the air. Gilbert heard. He wasn’t involved with the underground rebellion—Erzsébet really would murder him—but he heard all the same. The whispers and the plans.

Marx’s revolution.

Well, Gilbert assumed anyway. No one knew of Engels and Marx’s communist theories anymore, so he was self-taught and some of the language was really beyond him. But he had read it in a book, forbidden and outlawed, burned and destroyed, just like so many other works of literature and art from before the time of the androids. In fact, no work had survived the rise of them because human art was imperfect and therefore unsatisfying.

Except for the one library Gilbert had discovered in the part of the city destroyed by a war. No one really knew what war, because in their modern age war was something imperfect and therefore unsatisfying (and really, most things were outlawed for that precise reason). The human population had shrunk since old numbers anyway, Gilbert knew, because one dusty history book he had leafed through had spoken of a world population of 8.5 billion people, which sounded absolutely ludicrous in comparison to the bare one billion they managed to reach since the catastrophe.

There were no books on that, however. No records, either old or new, that spoke of the catastrophe. The rich said it had been a plague, but Gilbert no longer believed a word of what they said, so he presumed it must have been something they had been compliant in, or at least, their ancestors. Gilbert doubted anyone alive knew what the catastrophe had been.

All they had now was a broken, classicist society, one where the rich had most of the money, the middle class shared the rest, and the lower class was left to rot.

As he climbed over and ducked under debris that he doubted would ever be cleared, he knew he had to take Erzsébet to his library sometime soon, preferably before her voice gave out.

He had to show her his collection, from Mozart to Tchaikovsky to Vivaldi to Chopin. And from them to the opera singers she didn’t believe could exist, who had existed, whose voices had been recorded and preserved. He wanted to share it all with her.

***

Roderich had had to wait two weeks before he could afford to sneak off during the afternoon for some much-needed music practice. He dressed himself shabbier, something more befitting of the middle class if no one squinted at the fancy stitching, and took the quiet streets to the edge that cut off the middle class from the lower class. A park ran alongside the wall and Roderich ducked through the underbrush and the gap it hid, finding himself in the destroyed part of the city.

He slipped down the fallen debris, to the small and partially crumbled house that hid his secret, a secret he had found as a small boy too curious for his own good. Too curious, and now too far gone.

The lanterns flickered ominously as he turned them on and, as he seated himself on the small bench behind the piano, he noted in his pocket book to bring replacements the next time he went down.

Bösendorfer, for Roderich assumed it was this particular piano’s name, needed to be dusted and potentially tuned considering he hadn’t done so in quite some time, but Roderich always took a moment to just appreciate it. He did not know whose it used to be or how it had survived whatever war had supposedly claimed this part of the city, but despite the few scratches it still worked pristinely. Or as well as a human piano could, Roderich assumed.

It was a beautiful wing piano, a shiny black on the outside but polished wood on the inside. Nothing you would see the androids play on nowadays, if they played live at all. It was usual to have a record that played a prerecorded session while the singers performed live.

But Roderich would listen carefully to the musical instruments that would sound, so he could memorize and play it for himself later. It was the only way for him to play at all if he didn’t try to compose something himself. But he felt quite silly every time he attempted to because nothing would sound quite like the androids played. It was rather frustrating.

And now he had cleaned and dusted, opened the wing and sat himself down on the small bench which creaked worriedly. Uncovering the keys, he felt instantly calmed by their presence, fingers hovering over them hesitantly as he tried to recall the previous concert he had attended.

The introductory notes went fine as he went through them slowly, rectifying where he thought he had remembered wrong, and slowly playing through Harvey Wray’s part. It was an easier piece than Wray usually sang, which was probably because he had been accompanied by…

Roderich blinked at the dissonant tones that filled the barren living room and stared at his own hands in betrayal.

Erzsébet Héderváry’s clear and soothing voice blurred the music he thought he had listened to. Except clearly he hadn’t because her voice had called out to him, something more meaningful than the keys on the piano ever could accomplish.

He remembered the way she had shone as she sang her dulcet melodies and he remembered the chill he had felt roll down his spine with every dip and rise of her voice. It was something so utterly beautiful.

And the world was going to forget about her.

***

Gilbert spun around on the little stool in front of her makeup dresser, the light playing with the shadows on his thoughtful face. Erzsébet peeked at him through the gaps in the room divider as she changed, wondering if she could ever discover his thoughts. Whenever she asked he would smile wanly and said he would show her sometime. It worried her.

She heard the creak of the stool as Gilbert stopped his restlessness.

“He sat next to me again, that Roderich Edelstein,” he said softly, slightly puzzled.

“Oh?” Erzsébet had seen, of course, and had noticed the intense frown the man had been sporting too. She would’ve thought he had been offended by the show, but as she sneaked glances at him whenever she sang, she saw him relax, though the frown would linger. “Any more strange wisdom he had to share with you this time around?”

“He asked about you,” Gilbert said after a pause. “He asked what you would do when…” Gilbert didn’t continue, but they both knew anyway.

“And what did you answer?”

“That he wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

Erzsébet chuckled, coming back around and tossing her performance dress on the other chair. She sat sideways on Gilbert’s lap, draping one arm across his shoulders as his arm wound around her waist and his warm hand settled on her stomach, playing absently with the lacing on her shirt.

“I guess that’s your job then?” she teased, but stopped smiling as she caught the worry in his eyes. “Gilbert, it’s okay. I’ve been anticipating it for years.”

“It’s unfair. You won’t suddenly be unable to sing; you just won’t be able to keep the range the androids can.” Gilbert’s hand slipped to her waist and squeezed. “I don’t want you to stop singing.”

She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “Me too, but it’s the law, Gil.”

Gilbert scoffed. “It’s just singing. I don’t understand why we’re not allowed to do it. You know, they used to—” He stopped speaking abruptly, eyes darting toward the door as a knock sounded.

Erzsébet frowned, first at Gilbert, then at the door, knowing Gilbert had been about to tell her something important. But she was still a famous singer with a reputation and so she elegantly slipped off of Gilbert’s lap, missing him immediately, and asked, “Who is it?”

There was a moment of hesitation before a gentle voice said, “Roderich Edelstein.”

Erzsébet shared a look with Gilbert, who shrugged and turned around to play with her hair clips on the dresser, so she opened the door.

From up close, Roderich Edelstein was much prettier than Gilbert had given him credit for, even if his suits were a strange mix of in- and old-fashioned, but his face was beautifully proportionate and his eyes a gentle violet behind his thin-wired glasses. For a moment she forgot that it was rude to stare, then she cleared her throat and laughed awkwardly, pushing her hair behind her ear. Roderich cocked his head sideways slightly, somewhat uncertain.

“I’m sorry,” Erzsébet said quickly. “It’s just that—oh, well, never mind.” She smiled. “What can I do for you, Mr. Edelstein?”

Roderich waited for a moment longer before clearing his throat rather awkwardly. “I simply wished to tell you how much I enjoyed your voice tonight, Miss Héderváry. It’s very beautiful.”

Erzsébet blinked, somewhat surprised. It had been quite some time since someone had come to personally compliment her performance.

“Thank you,” she said bashfully. “It’s not often people come to appreciate it.”

Gilbert scoffed behind her, catching Roderich’s attention.

“Well, except for Gilbert, of course,” Erzsébet teased, smiling at him. “My number one fan.”

“That’s a shame,” Roderich said, then hurried to add, “I mean, that not many appreciate it.”

Erzsébet shrugged. “It’s how it is. I’m only human after all.”

Roderich opened his mouth at the same time as Gilbert muttered “Who fucking cares?” They stared at each other for a moment.

“Gilbert,” Erzsébet began, but Gilbert stood and gave Roderich an inscrutable look.

“What’s it you said last time?” Gilbert asked, “‘Anyone can belong to the arts’? What did you mean with it?”

Roderich stood very still for a moment. Erzsébet almost believed he would run away, but the he squared his shoulders and looked at her as he spoke.

“I don’t think the arts should be limited to androids when we have such marvellous human voices too.”

Erzsébet pulled Roderich inside the room and slammed the door shut, hoping no one had caught his quiet, dissident words. She stood with her back to them for a moment to recollect herself before turning around, noting the interest in Gilbert’s eyes as he appraised Roderich while Roderich fixed the cuff of his suit and appeared to try his best not to frown.

“I apologize,” Roderich said quickly. “I hadn’t meant to, well…”

Erzsébet held up her hand, breathing deeply. “I think… I think you and Gilbert should talk more, but I…” She looked at Gilbert. “I can’t, with a good conscience, allow you to voice these things _out loud_ in such a public setting.”

Gilbert scoffed. “It hardly is.”

She gave him a long look, wondering what she was to do with him. He returned her one as well, mirroring it with a little more exasperation even.

Roderich cleared his throat, drawing himself up a little as they glanced at him. “Please ignore my words if they disconcert you; I simply meant to compliment.”

“Mr. Edelstein,” Erzsébet said, not too gently because she just knew now he was the same type of person as Gilbert, no matter how many social classes were between them: an idealist with hope for a world where they, as outsiders to their social class, could belong. “I truly do appreciate it and I realize there’s truth in your words too, but I…” She sighed, rubbing her arms self-consciously. “I guess I’m not quite ready for them yet.”

Roderich wrung his hands, ducking his head slightly to acknowledge her words.

Gilbert must’ve caught something on her face because he stepped toward her and took her hands in his, squeezing gently.

“What were you going to say?” she whispered.

He looked at their hands for a moment before meeting her eyes. “I’ll show you soon. I promise.”

He kissed her hands and slipped out the door, leaving her with Roderich momentarily.

“I’m really sorry,” he said.

She shook her head. “No need to apologize. I don’t think you have bad intentions, but I worry about Gilbert. Please, just be careful.” She gave him a small smile as he, too, slipped out the door.

Erzsébet sighed, slumping down on the stool and pouting at herself in the mirror.

Really, now she had to worry over two idiots, didn’t she?

***

Roderich still looked troubled as he stood in the hallway with Gilbert. It didn’t look quite right on his face, eyebrows pinched together as he seemed to think.

“So,” Gilbert began, not really knowing where to go as Roderich’s eyes flicked to him. “Roderich—” He paused, thinking over his words carefully. “Dangerous rhetoric to be speaking out loud.”

Roderich gave him a wry look, and Gilbert figured he had crossed a line by addressing him with his first name—the upper classes always got iffy about it—but then Roderich sighed softly. “I suppose it is. I thought that perhaps because of you…”

“Because of me?”

Roderich brushed a hand through his hair, which intrigued Gilbert because he had never seen a rich person be anything but meticulously perfect and well-behaved. “You’re unlike, well, anyone I’ve ever met.”

Gilbert snorted, patting down his shabby clothing. “Yeah, well, you’ll find lots of mes down low.”

“I don’t think so,” Roderich said softly. He sighed then. “So, do I want to know why she believed we should talk more?”

Shrugging, Gilbert began to walk toward the back exit, strangely giddy that Roderich followed him without hesitation. “There’s lots of reasons probably, but, considering the context, let’s say it’s because I, too, think androids shouldn’t have a monopoly on opera.”

Gilbert took in the way Roderich’s jaw worked, as if protesting the very idea of _only_ opera. There was something so intriguing about this man. Someone who played pretend in the social class he belonged to, Gilbert could see.

“Opera, yes.” Roderich shifted his weight uncomfortably as Gilbert held open the door for him. He ducked through, standing opposite the alley as Gilbert let the door close behind him.

“Unless…” Gilbert trailed off, enjoying Roderich’s reactions a little too much, especially these little hopeful glints.

“Unless?”

Gilbert grinned, putting his hands in his pockets as he stepped closer to Roderich, finding those violet eyes becoming more and more intriguing the more he got to talk to him.

“Unless there’s more we’ve forgotten,” Gilbert whispered so Roderich had to lean closer to hear. “Unless there was never anything wrong with human music, but it was just something else to take away from the people.”

Roderich didn’t move, for a moment Gilbert thought he wasn’t breathing either, but his eyes were set on Gilbert’s, full with that recognition of someone who knew exactly what music could feel like when played by yourself.

“What’s happening back there?” A man stepped into the alley, a Social Order rat, zoning in on Gilbert’s shabby clothing immediately. His eyes flicked to Roderich, asking, “Is this man troubling you, sir?”

Roderich stepped back, straightened his clothes and pushing his glasses up his nose. Immediately, Gilbert felt the disdain emanating from him, something distinctly haughty bred from his social class.

“I’m perfectly all right,” Roderich said coldly. “This young man was simply explaining his opinions on this evening’s opera to me.”

The SO worker looked around the alley. “Out here?”

“People tend to treat him rather unkindly out front.” Roderich clearly wasn’t even going to bother with formalities.

“Right, of course. I… apologize.” The SO worker gave Gilbert one last distrustful look before turning around and leaving them alone.

Roderich huffed. “Honestly, the nerve,” he muttered, then startled as Gilbert began laughing.

“Oh, man.” Gilbert stretched and began to amble toward the main street. “I guess that’s that.” He glanced back at Roderich with a grin, who could only look at him in bewilderment. “Guess I’ll catch you later, Rod.”

That made the man sputter and Gilbert took his cue to jog his way downtown, down class, down all the way to his family’s threadbare home.

His father raised his eyebrows as Gilbert ducked through the kitchen and leaped up the stairs in twos. Ludwig turned around on his desk chair as Gilbert launched himself into his bed of their shared bedroom, giggling madly.

“Do I want to know?” Ludwig asked, somewhat exasperated.

“Nope.”

Gilbert buried his nose in his pillow, snorting through his amusement as quietly as he could so Ludwig could study. After all, there was something so ironically hilarious in someone as poor as Gilbert finding a kindred spirit in someone as wealthy as Roderich, with Erzsébet as a strange sort of middle point to keep them grounded.

***

The notes flowed easily, even as his mind tormented over his first meeting with Erzsébet Héderváry and subsequent conversation with Gilbert. He had sincerely thought that with how outspoken the young man was Erzsébet would be of the same mind, but instead he had apparently hit a nerve he hadn’t wished to strike.

It bothered him. He had never been someone to care much whether or not he offended someone, but Erzsébet was somehow different. Something about her made him want to impress her, whether it was her kind smile or the way she held herself.

On the other hand there was Gilbert. Roderich had asked his parents whether the name Beilschmidt rang any bells with them and as it turned out it belonged to a family that had eloped and disgraced their family name. Roderich’s father had then launched an interrogation as to why Roderich even knew that name and he had passed it off as having heard it somewhere in passing, which hadn’t been too far-sought; people liked to gossip after all.

But Gilbert must already be generations past that, perhaps even unknowing of it considering how, well, Roderich wouldn’t call it frivolous but an orchestrated sort of aloofness he was.

Roderich shifted smoothly in one of the android pieces that he liked a little better, wondering if Gilbert meant what he had said, if there was more they had forgotten, if Gilbert would really understand that Roderich could play piano.

“Do you know any Chopin?”

Roderich jumped back from the piano as if it had burnt him, toppling the bench, covering his racing heart with one hand as he found Gilbert sitting on the rubble left in front of the doorway while he slowly backed his way into the corner. He opened and closed his mouth, unsure what he should panic about first.

Gilbert hardly seemed to care for Roderich’s panic, instead resting his head in the palm of his hand, looking Roderich up and down curiously. Somewhere it registered with Roderich that it was a little flattering, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much now.

“I take it as a no?” Gilbert hummed thoughtfully for a moment, then stood and walked over to the piano, letting his fingers glide over the polished wood. “This looks so much prettier than the pictures.”

His voice was just a little reverent and Roderich felt it safe to breathe as Gilbert inspected inside the wing, but didn’t otherwise move to touch any of the strings.

“Did you tune it yourself?” Gilbert asked. He glanced back at Roderich, the bright glint of curiosity throwing Roderich off a little.

“I… Yes.” Roderich wrung his hands. “Its previous owner left instruments and instructions on how to, but I wasn’t able to tune it perfectly until I got my hands on this little tuner machine the androids use. It’s all very complicated.”

Gilbert hummed, moving his fingers over the keys as he muttered to himself, stopping on one white key not quite in the middle. He pressed down on it, closing his eyes shortly as he listened, then smiled.

Roderich had a myriad of questions to ask by now, but figured it was probably best for his safety to start with: “How did you find me?”

“Oh, I like to explore the ruins of the old city.” Gilbert righted the piano bench and sat down, facing Roderich. “I just happened to hear your dulcet tones and found my way in. I doubt anyone else ever will, so you can calm down.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “Please, Rod, I think we both know we’re of the same mind. I own a flute too, so now we’re even.”

Roderich fiddled with his sleeve, unravelling the old fabric even further. “A flute? No, wait. How do you even know so much about—” He gestured at Bösendorfer.

“Books.” Gilbert shrugged. “I’ll show you sometime, but I want to show Erzsi first.”

“Right. And does she…?”

“No.” Gilbert sighed. “She’s a little too paranoid. I mean, I get why because she’s pretty high profile and all, but I wish I could make her understand that there’s nothing more beautiful than her voice. I hope I can make her understand.”

Roderich hesitantly walked over, waiting until Gilbert turned around and scooted over before sitting next to him. “That’s a pretty tall order.”

“Well.” Gilbert took a deep breath and grinned at Roderich. “You heard her. She’s not quite ready for it, which I take she will be, sometime. And I’m very persuasive.”

Roderich snorted, covering his mouth with his hand as the noise escaped him. “I’m sure.”

Gilbert winked. “So, Roderich Edelstein, will you play me something?”

“If you don’t mind more android pieces; it’s all I know.”

Gilbert gestured for Roderich to proceed, who carefully placed his fingers on the starting keys. But before he began to play, he looked at Gilbert and asked, “Who’s Chopin?”

Gilbert’s laugh was exhilarating, driving something more from Roderich’s fingers as he played. It was a different feeling altogether.

***

She knew it had meant trouble when Gilbert had climbed through her window when her family was fast asleep, holding an old rag she discovered to be a dress meant to muddle her appearance to something unassuming.

The night was quiet as Gilbert held her hand and navigated the old streets of the lower middle class. The air was getting colder with every step the further they went down into the lower classes.

“Gilbert,” she whispered and he pulled her into an alley, her back hitting the wall as he leaned closer to hear her. “Where are we going?”

All she received in reply was a small kiss on her cheek and those sparkling eyes, full of excitement, that she couldn’t refuse as he continued to lead her toward the old ruins.

He allowed her to hesitate for only a moment before leading her through. Their only light was the bright moon and her only guide were his warm hands until they reached what appeared to have been an old square where multiple buildings, while looking a little desolate and a lot abandoned, still stood.

There, he lead her inside one through a window to the side. The room they entered in was empty save for broken desks, but a lantern waited for Gilbert to light it, the artificial light painting harsh shadows on the white walls.

“It’s a library, Erzsi,” he said. “An old one.”

And it made sense then, everything he’s ever said, how he got to those ideas and words and excitement. His secret from the world, living in his own one.

He held out his free hand to her, giving her a choice, though if Erzsébet was being honest with herself, she already made the decision when he had shown her the dress, a small part of her knowing that whatever he was going to show her that night it would change her world.

She took it, returning his grin with a smile as he lead her deeper inside.

The building was huge, at least five stories high and a further five down, and held more books than she thought she could count. He pointed out all the sections as they passed them, from non-fiction to fiction to books on nature and sciences to books on countries that no longer existed. But he didn’t allow her to linger anywhere, instead urging her higher and higher up the staircase and into a large ornate room with wide windows covered in drapes.

“Music,” she read off the plaque on the highest shelf facing the door. She turned to Gilbert, who smiled encouragingly, following after her as she approached the bookcase.

It was huge and not nearly as dusty as any of the other shelves they had passed, clearly seeing much love from Gilbert, but it was filled from top to bottom with books on music: instruments, instruction books, something called sheet music, and so much more. Though some books seemed to not have survived their many years in solitude and negligence.

“This is…” Erzsébet didn’t know why she was whispering, but her heart was filled with awe in seeing so much of a past people didn’t know.

“Human.” Gilbert touched her back, turning her toward a small sitting corner that barely held together, the old chairs clearly patched up by Gilbert. On the small table stood a machine that looked like two speakers held together by something more archaic than their current record players. It was linked to an old electric generator he must have stolen from one of his old jobs as the lower class ones tended to have out-dated equipment; they certainly were no longer made now that their society lived on something more durable than electricity.

She carefully sat down as Gilbert fiddled with the buttons, the machine lighting up as he wound the generator, clearly equally patched up as everything else.

He pointed to a pile of square plastic containers with pictures in them.

“Pick something,” he said.

The pictures on the containers were mostly paintings of white-haired men, but there was also a photograph, coloured yet distinctly of a much older era, of an older lady who Erzsébet assumed to be the name mentioned over it: Christa Ludwig.

Gilbert was looking at her, so she handed him that one. He took one look at it, chuckled to himself, and entered the strange disk into the top of the machine. Pressing another button, Gilbert sat on the chair opposite her, watching her avidly.

A piano began playing, crackly and impure, yet as Erzsébet listened for any impure notes as they quickly passed, nothing sprung out; it was well-played. What she didn’t expect was the voice that begun to sing, a mezzo-soprano just like her, beautiful and strong and deep.

She let it wash over her, the German something old and unusual in their current operatic environment. The way her voice rose and fell just like Erzsébet had been taught and knew like a second language, how the story of the _Erlk_ _önig_ was told to her through this woman’s beautiful voice.

And with every passing song, from the calmness of _Gestillte Sehnsucht_ to the befittingly powerful _Die Nachtigall_ , the heavy feeling in her heart lifted a little more until she felt tears prickling at her eyes.

She understood now why Gilbert cared so much.

“Gilbert,” she whispered, squishing herself next to him on the chair, even as the chair creaked worryingly. She took his face in her hands and kissed him, overwhelmed with emotion. “Thank you.”

And for once Gilbert didn’t have to say anything, he simply held her as they listened to music long since forgotten, but still alive despite that.

***

Erzsébet devoured books. Not only from the music department, but anything that caught her fancy. But she would always read in the music room. Gilbert would try to read too, but with Erzsébet right there it was hard to concentrate. Even curled up on a beat-up chair, wearing a beat-up dress, engrossed in some novel or another, she was the most fascinating thing in the room.

Until she had to share the spotlight anyway.

Gilbert had been listening to Roderich play only when he happened to catch him, which was rarely if ever. Roderich never knew when he had time to play and Gilbert couldn’t always make it to his part of the ruined city.

Now, after one of Erzsébet’s shows, where Erzsébet had outdone herself surely, shining with confidence he had missed seeing, bolstered by a new knowledge, they sneaked all the way to the ruins with the three of them.

Roderich was much less interested in anything else the library had to offer, following Gilbert and Erzsébet with bated breath to the top floor.

Gilbert had teased him with human sheet music before and had brought a few of the easier pieces of Mozart along for Roderich to see, but they had both agreed they would need to set aside a full afternoon at least to go through the basics together.

Roderich had his nose in a book about pianos within moments of stepping into the room. He muttered to himself as he read, glasses slipping down his nose.

Erzsébet giggled, walking up behind him and guiding him to the chairs and the newly repaired couch without him ever glancing up to worry about where he went, sitting him down and sidling up to him to read along with him.

Meanwhile, Gilbert found a few of the other books carrying sheet music he thought Roderich would enjoy, leaving them on the table as he searched for the matching CDs.

Erzsébet picked up one of the books, leafing through it and stopping occasionally to read if there were words written along some of the songs.

“You can really read these?” she asked, catching Roderich’s attention too.

“Yeah, I told you.” Gilbert took the book from her and went to Liszt’s _Liebestraum_. “It took a while, but by listening, a little bit of help from some basic instruction books still legible, and just puzzling things out, I got there. I think anyway.”

“On this flute of yours?” Roderich asked, putting the book beside him on the couch.

Gilbert grinned. “Yeah. I’ll show you later when you’re sick of all this paper.”

Roderich smiled, ducking his head in acknowledgement as Gilbert pressed play on the CD player.

Erzsébet moved to the other chair, picking up whatever she had been reading and settling in as she usually did.

Gilbert took her place next to Roderich, sitting a little closer than completely necessary, but Erzsébet had gotten away with it and Gilbert was never one to back down from a good challenge. Thankfully, Roderich didn’t seem to mind, instead closing his eyes as he listened to the music.

Once the song had ended, Gilbert paused the CD and dived into the sheet music, gaining Roderich’s undivided attention and carefully voiced questions.

He had thought that teaching would be tedious, but Roderich was attentive and, though he had a little trouble with, what he called, ‘the abstractness’ of sheet music, a fast learner, so Gilbert found himself with a patience he hadn’t known he possessed and a will to explain as clearly as he could.

They would definitely need to bring some sheet music over to Roderich’s piano because it was probably easier to learn by doing, but for now this was fine with the both of them.

Besides, Gilbert thought absently, getting to observe just how pretty Roderich was from up close was a well enough trade off to whatever frustrations Gilbert might have felt.

***

Roderich had to admit he had never cared much for the flutes in android symphonies, but when Gilbert had unveiled the silver instrument from its casing and Roderich had listened to his excited rambling on its components and how it all worked, his curiosity was piqued.

Gilbert had pulled a different sheet music book from the pile, muttering names until he found the piece he wanted to play. It was something by Johann Sebastian Bach, one of the first pieces Gilbert had taught himself how to play.

Erzsébet had put her book down too, leaning on the arm of her chair to watch Gilbert with soft eyes.

Gilbert focused on his breathing for a moment before drawing in and playing the first notes. They were bright and high, melding into something more mysterious as the song flowed on. Occasionally it dived a little low before swooping up again in its quick pace. It was a lovely piece.

Roderich watched Gilbert’s fingers move to cover the buttons on the flute, entranced by their practised ease. It made his own fingers itch, wondering whether there were pieces for them to play together, maybe even pieces where Erzsébet could sing with them too.

When the piece ended on its final long note, both Erzsébet and Roderich clapped, causing Gilbert’s ears to burn red as he lowered his eyes bashfully.

“So, um, yeah.” Gilbert laughed nervously. “That’s that.”

“That’s that,” Erzsébet echoed with a smile, squishing herself next to Gilbert and pressing a kiss against his reddening cheek. Her fingers wrapped around one of his hands still curled around the flute. “It was really lovely.”

“Indeed. You’re really talented,” Roderich said, eliciting further blushing from Gilbert. He shifted forward on the couch, leaning over the table to turn the sheet music toward himself, trying to apply some of the knowledge Gilbert had taught him earlier. “So you—how did you call it again? Sightread?—this?”

“A little. A large part I also know by heart by now, but it’s comforting to have the sheet music visible anyway.” Gilbert leaned forward to point out a sequence, then played it again, slowly, for Roderich to follow. “One of the books—I’ll have to look for it sometime—has some tips on how to do it in big orchestras. Like, could you imagine? Focusing on your own part in this huge symphony, where everyone plays their own part… It sounds insane to me.”

Considering music androids were specifically designed to only be capable of hearing their own part while playing in an orchestra, if they played live at all which was becoming rarer and rarer as it fell out of fashion with the upper class, it really did sound like something unimaginably difficult. Yet, some of Gilbert’s CDs had live symphonies recorded on them, sounding as perfect as an android symphony. The only difference Roderich really noticed when listening is that human music sounded much more… passionate than any android symphony he had every heard.

Gilbert had handed Erzsébet his flute after cleaning the mouthpiece, teaching her how to hold it and pushing her fingers onto specific buttons while lifting them from others. Encouraging for her to blow, he continued to move her fingers, even as the tune got a little shaky with Erzsébet’s laughter.

“It’s the opening, isn’t it?” she said as she handed him back the instrument. “But very, very, _very_ slowly.”

“As if every note is a full one,” Roderich said, smiling.

Gilbert grinned as he placed the flute back into its case. “Look at my teaching paying off here, huh? Wherever would you have been without me?”

“At another android symphony, being a lonely man, living a lie.”

Erzsébet and Gilbert glanced at each other before bursting into giggles.

“You hear that, Erzsi?” Gilbert said as she wriggled free from his side. “Rod’s life was terribly incomplete without us to liven it up.”

“The poor, wretched thing,” Erzsébet agreed, settling against Roderich’s side now, reaching up to push his hair behind his ear with a teasing smile.

“Wretched?” Roderich had trouble keeping his face neutral, a smile threatening as Erzsébet fingers tickled through the hair at the base of his neck.

Gilbert fell against his other side, wrapping his arm around Roderich’s waist to squish them together more. “A wretched, lonely soul. Lost in music of the human variant. A love for symphonies eons past.”

Roderich snorted as Erzsébet snickered.

“Right, right, I’m being silly. I get it,” Roderich conceded, reaching up to take Erzsébet’s hand away but not letting go once he had it safely in his lap.

“A little,” Erzsébet said, squeezing his hand. “But I understand.”

Gilbert hummed, resting his head on Roderich’s shoulder. “I’m glad I get to share this with you two.”

Roderich sighed, slowly leaning back against the couch with them, infinitely grateful to them.

***

Erzsébet put down the paper, thinking over the reviews her latest performance had sparked. Most of them had carried an undertone of surprise because it was usual for human voices to give out around the age of twenty-five, but for some reason Erzsébet’s just kept on going, improving even to the bafflement of her contemporaries.

It made her wonder whether it was voices dying or a human’s confidence breaking when everyone around you continuously told you you wouldn’t be able to hold your own against androids in their rampant conquering of the arts. Now that Erzsébet knew that there had once been humans, elderly humans, who still sang as pure as crystal, she didn’t want to ever stop singing, no matter what the world would tell her.

But a part of her was getting tired of being scrutinized, of people not only keeping an eye on her voice, but her relationships as well. Since someone had caught Roderich coming out of her dressing room one late night (because he had an appointment with his father, so Gilbert had ended up walking her home), the media had been speculating on their relationship as well as Gilbert’s involvement in it. It was, after all, utterly scandalizing for someone of Roderich’s stature to be seen with someone like Gilbert (Gilbert and Erzsébet mysterious relationship as a gossip topic had been bled to death already).

Roderich was frowning in the chair opposite her, eyes on the empty score on his lap, having been practising sheet music by composing his own scores, but clearly his mind was far away from musical theory as he tapped his pencil against his knee.

Meanwhile, Gilbert was fast asleep on the couch, having recently found a new job on another construction site, worked to exhaustion but refusing any sort of monetary help from either Erzsébet or Roderich. Erzsébet took one of the blankets she had brought earlier against the chill of winter setting into the library and tucked Gilbert in, brushing his bangs from his eyes fondly as he snored softly.

Then, she leaned on Roderich’s knee, pressing a kiss against his nose as he looked up at her.

“Are your parents giving you trouble again?” she asked.

He scoffed as he put his utensils away, making room for her to squeeze next to him on the chair. He took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You could say that. They think a proper gentleman of my, ah, calibre could do much better than a…” He pursed his lips disdainfully.

“Second-rate human singer?” Erzsébet offered, more amused than offended, used to much worse commentary.

“Hardly,” he grumbled, looking at her. “But yes.”

Erzsébet let out a long puff of air. “Man, wait until they hear about Gil, huh?”

Roderich groaned, dropping his glasses in his lap as he rubbed his face tiredly. “I don’t even want to think about crossing that bridge. I might as well pack my bags.” He lowered his hands and looked at Gilbert with a troubled expression. “Perhaps I should. I’m not made to be an heir anyway.”

“You’re also not someone who could work anywhere in the lower class jobs, Roderich,” Erzsébet said gently. “And Gilbert doesn’t expect you to drop everything just because you love him. I don’t either.”

Roderich still didn’t seem satisfied, so Erzsébet took his hands in hers and kissed his knuckles with a small smile. “One day, Roderich, we’ll figure something out. We’re not the only people dissatisfied with our limited options. I’m sure that one day we’ll have a place to belong.”

Roderich chuckled, untangling one hand to brush calloused fingertips over her cheek, tilting her head back to press a chaste kiss against her lips. “How dangerously revolutionary of you, Erzsébet.”

Erzsébet laughed, covering her mouth with a hand as Gilbert grumbled and rolled over on the couch. She gave Roderich a long look that hopefully bordered on threatening, though her lips still twitched with laughter.

“Don’t you dare tell Gilbert,” she whispered.

Roderich shrugged, pushing his glasses back up his nose and returning to his score, jotting down a few new notes. “Not a word,” he promised. “He knows anyway.”

Erzsébet elbowed him, though it did little to deter the teasing smile he wore. He was right anyway.

***

Gilbert’s family had become increasingly worried for his continuous absences, which were mostly because of his long work days, but after promising them that no, he wasn’t involved in any revolutionary business like the Vargas siblings surely were and that he was simply spending more time with some friends he had made, they had accepted it for what it was.

Really, Gilbert spent all his possible free time at the library now that he, Roderich and Erzsébet had figured something out to perform with the three of them. He and Roderich had sat down to play with scores and making something harmonious for their respective instruments. Then Erzsébet had discovered a book that had old world explanations of opera singing, linking it to musical notes as well (as currently it was linked to the convoluted binary that the androids used), and they began to tweak arias to her pitch as well, making a whole to play for the three of them.

They had yet to play together, Roderich busy with whatever Roderich did for a job and Erzsébet being booked for some grand end-of-the-year concert as one of the three human voices still needed, which was quite an honour but Erzsébet had had half a mind to refuse if Roderich and Gilbert hadn’t convinced her to take it. She had become increasingly critical of roles offered to her, becoming more and more reluctant to perform for the public. Both Gilbert and Roderich had tried to pry the reason from her, but she had shaken her head and told them she needed more time to think.

Roderich was at the library when Gilbert had made his way there after a tiring day at work. Roderich glanced up from the book he had been reading, closing it and giving Gilbert his undivided attention. It was a little disconcerting just how quickly Roderich had picked up on Gilbert’s ticks and habits, but then again Roderich seemed to pick up things quickly when he was really interested in them, so Gilbert was a little flattered too.

Despite the couch being centuries old and Roderich’s legs being as skinny as they were, it was the most comfortable Gilbert had been in a while. Roderich’s hand automatically began to brush through his hair, his glasses slipping dangerously low as he peered down at Gilbert curiously.

Gilbert reached up to remove them and toss them to the table. “I’m tired, Roderich.”

“Then you should rest,” Roderich answered, bemused.

“Mm. Was gonna practice. Haven’t had a lot of time.” Still, he made no move to get up and Roderich didn’t comment on it either.

Instead, he said, “I understand why Erzsébet worries so much about you now.”

Gilbert snorted. “I’m perfectly all right.”

Roderich flicked his nose, chastising with a look alone. “You deserve better.”

“It’s just how it is, Rod. I work so Lutz can study and my dad doesn’t have to break his back any more than he already has.”

“So you break your back instead,” Roderich muttered.

Gilbert didn’t feel like arguing about the way things were, so he reached up and pulled Roderich’s head down to kiss him. Roderich narrowed his eyes as they parted, but Gilbert grinned, flicked his nose in retaliation and closed his eyes.

“Wake me up in two hours, please.”

He heard Roderich sigh, but then there was the click of his gold timepiece and a soft “in three hours”.

***

One of these days, they needed to figure out how to move Bösendorfer from its shabby residence to the library. It would be much more convenient as well as safer because its current residence was close to the actual city, but considering how far away it was from the library, with lots of rubble in between that complicated it even further, it would probably require more people than the three of them which carried a whole other level of dangers.

So for now they trekked toward the house it was stood in, carrying books of sheet music, a bunch of lanterns and Gilbert’s flute. It had still been late afternoon when they had left, but now the sun had set and the full moon illuminated their path.

Roderich heard Gilbert hum something that sounded suspiciously like the _Moonlight Sonata_ , a piece Roderich had recently been practising as well, as they travelled. Gilbert managed to reach the third movement by the time they had reached Bösendorfer’s house. It was honestly a little insane just how much empty city had been left ruined and empty. Roderich could only imagine how large the old city must have been and how humans even travelled such far places. He should look it up in the library sometime.

Gilbert had fixed up two more chairs that they had dug out from the rubble as well as a small table, which was quickly covered in books and sheets of paper as they all got settled in.

Erzsébet had only seen Bösendorfer twice, but she still watched Roderich go through his usual motions of setting it up with intrigue. She sat down on the bench next to him, asking him questions about how it worked and how he had even managed to get it in proper order again, which he answered excitedly because it had been a challenging but incredibly rewarding puzzle.

Then she made him play some things and laughed at the android pieces he had remembered, sounding so strange coming from his hands now that he knew pieces made for them. She softly sang along with some of them, though Roderich had to sheepishly admit that he couldn’t play any pieces she had sung before because her voice had been too distracting.

That made her kiss him. “You flatter me, Roderich.”

“Always,” he replied.

“‘Always’?” Gilbert snorted. “That’s my damn line, Rod.”

Roderich chuckled, glancing back at Gilbert. “Ah, yes. I apologize. Would it flatter you if I said you distracted me first?”

Gilbert hummed thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes as he judged Roderich’s sincerity. Then, he stuck out his tongue. “Guess I am a little flattered.”

Erzsébet chuckled, leaving Roderich’s side with a kiss to his cheek. After pressing another to Gilbert’s cheek, she took her place on the ratty rug and began to warm up her voice. Roderich was momentarily caught up in it, and he noticed Gilbert was too, but then they both turned back to their own instruments, setting up their altered scores and nervously fiddling even though their only audience was themselves.

When Erzsébet said she was ready, Roderich waited for Gilbert to say the same before he counted down and began playing with Gilbert joining in on the third bar.

It was easier than he had anticipated, but perhaps it was because the flute and piano were two very distinct instruments or because it was only with the two of them, though both he and Gilbert stumbled when Erzsébet began singing, which in turn made her voice quiver in laughter. Yet, they all picked up again, finding their places, slowly losing themselves in the music as they continued.

Erzsébet’s voice fell within their music perfectly and even though they would have to play around with some of the notes later, the song not nearly as perfect as they had hoped, but for some reason Roderich couldn’t bring himself to care, and considering both Erzsébet and Gilbert were still going, they didn’t either.

Roderich almost wished they could record it, but acquiring a recording machine would be difficult and suspicious as most humans had no need for it, only if they happened to be recorders for symphonies.

And even when they had finished one song, Roderich couldn’t stop his fingers from moving to the next and laughed when Gilbert followed just as quickly. Erzsébet ignored the first lines of her song to throw her hands around Roderich’s shoulders and, even after she let go, didn’t begin until the chorus came along, having hugged Gilbert as well guessing by the temporary lack of flute.

They continued like that for a while until Gilbert had to call for a break, slumping down his chair all the way to the floor with a red face and Erzsébet urging him to drink some water. Roderich turned around on the bench, smiling as Gilbert pulled Erzsébet down onto the floor next to him.

“Fuck, that was good,” Gilbert said, grinning brightly. He leaned over to kiss Erzsébet quickly. “You sounded absolutely beautiful.”

“More or less,” she replied, but her smile was as wide as his. She glanced at Roderich and gestured for him to move over as well. When he had settled on her other side, she wondered, “Is it strange that I don’t mind it being imperfect? I just had so much fun, both singing and listening to you both. Much more so than I ever had on a stage.”

“Now you’re flattering us, Erzsébet,” Roderich said.

“And you deserve to be,” she answered as she stole a greedy kiss from him.

“We definitely need to tweak some things though,” Gilbert said thoughtfully, voicing Roderich’s earlier thoughts.

“That, but I think we can smooth them out easily enough.” Roderich reached for Gilbert’s copy of the score on the table, pushing up his glasses as he squinted at the notes.

Gilbert reached over to take it from his hands and tossed it back on the table, reaching over to take Roderich’s hand instead, with Erzsébet placing her own on top in her lap.

“Later,” Gilbert said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the chair. “Right now, I just want to bask in this feeling for a while.”

Erzsébet snorted. “And what feeling would that be?”

Gilbert scrunched his nose. “Being content? Happy even. Cause we’re a bunch of humans who shouldn’t be anywhere involved with music, or with each other, for as far as most people are concerned and yet here we are. And maybe we’re not perfect, but honestly? Like you said, Erzsi, why should we care about perfection when we’re having fun?”

Roderich squeezed his hand, laughing softly. “Couldn’t have said it better.”

And for now, in their little world, that was more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> So uhhh forgive me for anything stupid I’ve said regarding music bc I did not have time/energy to research extensively so most of this is from what I remember from my two years of music classes in high school which were about UH ten whole fucking years ago like where has the time gone my dudes???? and tao was kind enough to give me some pointers/corrections as well so bless 💜
> 
> Also, like, I kind of set this up so that if I have a flash of inspiration, I can continue with the revolutionary aspect of this fic, which would probably be from Lovino’s POV but with this trio featuring heavily. We’ll see what happens tho ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Anyway, happy first fic of 2020!!! May I continue to write the Most self-indulgent content ✌🏻✨


End file.
